A World Away
by Justicar77
Summary: An Original World/Warcraft Crossover: Four men, on a journey together. A skilled soldier, a swashbuckling noble, an ingenious inventor, and a state assassin are suddenly thrown through a portal, and scattered about. The lands they find themselves in are nothing like what they are used to. Will they find a way home? Make this their home? Or, forge a new destiny for themselves.
1. A Tear in Reality

**Endarian Empire**

 **Pozye Province, Struyetsk Region**

 **6th Era, Year 591, 14th day of Julve**

 **1400 Hours**

The sun beat down on the small band's backs and necks as they rode along the path. The intense sun, free of cloud cover, was brutal, and the heat was only exacerbated by the humidity. The hiss of golden blades of grass in the wind was the only other sound that distinguished itself from the soft trudging of leather boots on the dirt path. There was four people in the group, each one distinctly different from each other, as they each came from a different region of the Empire. The one in the front, a tall man of around six and a half feet with blue eyes and blond hair, wheezes tiredly. "Damn it all. I hate the spring here more than the summer. At least the summer is dry." He speaks up, his voice carried a mix of the Capital accent mixed with Konig region woodlander. "Yeah, well I suggested you wear something lighter and cooler than full scale and plate, but nooo. Strong ol' Leonhard is a toughie. A Schuller son would never be brought down by the weather." The man behind him mocks, teasingly. He was shorter, about six foot exact. What distinguished him the most was his storm grey eyes and silver hair, even though he was remarkably young, he looked no older than 24 at most. Leonhard, was in full scale mail and plate armor, and bore a large bastard sword on his back, engraved it pictures of a Stag hunt along the guard. In contrast, the man behind him was wearing a brown vest over a white silk shirt with its sleeves rolled up. A rapier hung at his side. "Yeah? Well, piss off Graham. The Ashcrofts fart around with money all day. You would probably be unable to even wear full plate." Leonhard retorts, humorously. Graham merely chuckles. He looks back at their other two companions. "Would be nice if we had some other conversationalists on the team." Graham says, trying to elicit a response. The one directly behind him didn't seem to notice. He had dirty blond hair with fiery gold eyes. His hair was tied back in a tail, and his face was unkempt with the whispers of a beard that was just beginning to grow in. He wore clothes similar to Graham, albeit more unkempt. He was poring over papers and schematics. The one behind him seemed to acknowledge that Graham had said something, but ignored him.

"This is what happens when you haul along the great inventor Matrellus Barenzian and a government assassin. Not the biggest talkers." Leonhard says. Matrellus, the one behind Graham, seems to look up briefly at his name being mentioned. The other one remained resolute in his apathy of the entire situation. Graham chuckles. "Y'know, your name… Matou Takeda, it is absolutely a name from the Sugari Boshi Commonwealth." Graham says. Matou, the one in the back looks at Graham, now that he is being talked to. His eyes, an icey blue seemed to pierce Graham. "Hmm? What about it?" Matou asks. "Well… aside from black hair, you don't look Boshinese. You lack the olive skin, short stocky stature, and tattoos… oh, and the eyes. No Boshinese has light blue eyes." Graham says. "Well, I'm from the Commonwealth, that is true. But, my family is not. We are originally from Struyetsk. But, the Boshinese like conformity, so my parents changed our names to conform. Takicz became Takeda." Matou explains plainly. Graham nods. "You didn't want to change it back later? Takicz sounds more fitting to you." Graham states. Matou shrugs nonchalantly. "Just a name. I really don't give a damn." Matou replies. Graham seems puzzled. He came from a prestigious family, the Ashcrofts, and as such, found it kind of odd that someone hardly cared about their name. "Besides, I'm operating under an alias most times anyways." Matou says. Graham nods and decided to leave things at that. He begins to turn his head forward again and bumps right into Leonhard, who had stopped. Matrellus bumps into him. Matou gracefully sidesteps.

"What the…" Leonhard mumbles as he looks ahead. Everyone else had quickly found the subject of the mystery. There seemed to be a shimmer in the air ahead. It was perhaps 20 feet tall, and was like someone had taken a great big sword and slashed the air, leaving the shimmering fissure in its wake. "Erm… Mirage?" Graham speaks up. Leonhard shakes his head. "Mirages aren't that tall and thin. Also, it is not THAT hot." Leonhard responds. Matou and Matrellus look on, the former with a cautious look and the latter with a scholarly, curious look. Matou finally picks up a rock and throws it at the shimmer. It passes through fine. "Going with mirage." Matrellus says upon seeing that. Leonhard shrugs. "Whatever. We all are durable enough if it is some trap."

So, the group pressed on. When they got to the shimmer, it didn't disappear. Leonhard tried to go around it, but some invisible force seemed to latch onto him. "Shit, something's got me." Leonhard says gruffly. Graham and Matou rush over to help out. The force began tugging on Leonhard, pulling him toward the shimmer. "I do not want my gravestone to say I got eaten by Roger the man-eating mirage!" Leonhard shouts, mildly worried now. "Damn is it a strong pull." Graham curses as he and Matou were only able to slow down Leonhard being tugged towards the shimmer. Matrellus lends his muscle to no avail. Leonhard spews out a number of curses as he is dragged closer. When they get close enough, Graham is tugged off his feet by an invisible force grabbing his ankles. "Gah! I'm down!" Graham shouts as he is tugged towards the shimmer as well. Matou decides to save himself, but just as he is releasing Leonhard, something grabs his arm. Already shifting in the other direction, the sudden tug causes an audible pop as Matou's shoulder goes out of socket. He grunts and is tugged towards the shimmed, trying but failing to fight it. He soon gives up and resigns himself to his fate. Matrellus was next. Something grabs him from his feet and drags him to the shimmer as well. He puts up the least resistance, instead trying to figure out what is up with the shimmer. Soon, the shimmering thing is upon them. It suddenly expands, widening and Leonhard is pulled through, disappearing with a curse cut short. Then goes Graham and Matou. Graham goes with one last lunge for freedom. Matou seems resigned to whatever fate awaits him. Matrellus seems more mystified by his companions disappearing, and then he two is gone. Then, the shimmer disappears completely.


	2. The Hunter Forsook

**Location Unknown**

 **Date Unknown**

 **Hour: Around Dusk**

Matou grunted and coughed out air as his side slammed a rock. He rolls, hitting rocks and twigs as he falls down the hill. He grunts and grimaces as he falls. Then, he is airborne, he had rolled off a jutting rock in the hill. He slams to the ground and actually lets out a small whimper of pain as he feels something enter him. Just near the liver. He looks at his body. A piece of wood was jutting through him, having impaled him. "Fuck…" He grunts, sitting up. He reaches inside of his pack and pulls out a vial wrapped in padded leather. It was filled with a crimsonish sanguine liquid of some sort. He removes the offending piece of wood and pours the liquid over the wound on both sides. The wound quickly begins stitching itself up. Matou tosses the vial away, along with the remaining contents of the vial. He stands up, grabbing his sword, a lightweight, black hilted and sanguine blade grosse messer. He slings it to his side and looks around.

The sun was setting, and he stood in a forest. The trees were huge. Massive pine trees that blotted out most of the dying sunlight. Somewhere far off, there was a wolf howl. Matou looks at where he had fallen from. It was a small, rocky hill. He looks around for his companions but finds none of them. Matou sighs, and thinks. Deciding that he best see if he can find a place to seek shelter or civilization, he sets out.

After a couple hours, he finds a small path, lazily illuminated by lanterns here and there. He decides to follow it, heading vaguely north. He keeps an eye out for people, shelter, or danger. Finally, he comes across an abandoned house, somewhere around midnight. Deciding he needed rest, Matou heads for the door and goes inside. It was dusty and dark. He finds a corner, takes out his bedroll, and lays down for the night.

Matou wakes up at the sound of bird calls. He looks around in the darkness, the only light being that which came in through the cracks in the shuttered windows. He packs up and opens the door. The forest was gloomy even in daylight, as little light came through the trees. Keeping his sword at the ready and altogether, quite confused by his predicament, Matou presses on. After an hour or so, nothing has happened, so he begins chewing on some jerky from his pack. At some point, after what must have been another three or so hours, Matou came across a dead bear, just off the side of the road. Inspecting it, it looked like it had been clawed to death, and something had fed on it. Flies were flying around the body and a couple crows flew away from the corpse when he approached. "Hmm…" Matou thinks upon what could have killed the bear, but nothing comes to mind. He decides to be extra cautious however, as it was likely that whatever did this was dangerous, or at least, more so than a bear. Matou tightens his grip on his sword and continues on.

It was a subtle change, so Matou didn't quite notice it for the first hour, but the forest had begun to change. Not drastically, but things were distinctly… deader. Matou was of course, only made more concerned about this. "Rot? Disease? Or… magic?" Matou mumbles to himself as he walks on.

Finally, the day grew late, and Matou once again settles down for the night. This time, he would have to sleep in the open. He starts a fire to ward off any animals, then lays down for the night. He listens to the forest as he tries to sleep, thinking about his curious predicament. He certainly wasn't in any part of Endaria. There was nowhere in the Empire that was like this. He had to figure out where he was, though, how he would start investigating was what he was worried about. So far, he had seen one abandoned house and an abandoned mine. Not much in the way of clues to where or what this place was. He sighs in resignation and falls asleep.

Something roared at him. Matou rolls out of bed, grabbing his sword as some massive black furred beast slams down right where he had been. It was a humanoid wolf. "Werewolf?" Matou mutters, readying his sword as the beast glared at him, circling him. Had the beast not roared, Matou would be dead now. He had no time to be grateful however. He faces the creature, cautious but ready. After what felt like an eternity, the wolfman lunges at Matou, who dodges aside, pivoting on his feet as he swings his sword down, putting his weight behind the blow. The blade shears through the monster, just under the right breast. Stopped in its tracks, Matou kicks the creature away, where it soon bleeds out.

Making sure it was dead first, Matou walks over to the wolfman and inspects it. The thing was a little over seven feet tall standing. Inspecting the claws, Matou concludes this must have been what killed the bear. Now that he was wide awake, Matou decides to continue walking, as he had no hope of getting back to sleep. He gets back on the path and keeps walking.

Around what must have been four in the morning, Matou hears movement… and talking. Though, he couldn't understand the language that was being said. Matou was happy to hear that he wasn't the only civilized being in this forest and presses on up the road, from where he heard the sounds. He keeps his sword nearby in case of the voices being those of bandits. Rounding a turn in the road, he comes across the source of the sound. The five armed figures stop, as does Matou, as they notice each other. Perhaps most distinctive was the glowing yellow eyes or the deathly pale faces. "Huh…?" Matou mumbles, as he takes notice that flesh was missing in places on the bodies of the five people. The five draw their weapons, and hostility seemed apparent. "Zombies? They're fuckin zombies." Matou mutters, stepping back a step as they draw their weapons. The lead one shouts at him in some language Matou doesn't understand. He cocks his head questioningly at the one shouting at him. The zombie shouts again, this time in another language, which Matou yet again fails to understand. "Er… You don't speak Endarian?" Matou asks back. This time, it was their turn to cock their heads, not understanding. The confusion however, seemed to defuse some of the hostility. The lead one points at Matou's sword and gestures for him to drop it. "Am I being… well I guess you won't understand." Matou tries to retort before realizing the futility of it. He contemplates fighting, he was confident he could take them, but decides that he knows nothing of the place and perhaps these… sentient zombies would lend some clues. So Matou takes off his sword and slowly hands it over. The leader of the group takes the sword as the others surround him. His hands are tied, and Matou decides maybe fighting was the better option. Being eaten was not his idea of a fun time. They then begin leading him along the road the way they had come.

The walk had seemed to take hours, and Matou had tried asking questions for the first hour or so, but it was useless. After a time, the group breaks off the path and walks onto a dead and abandoned crypt up a hill. Heading into the crypt, Matou is confronted with the scent of death. He looks around to find others like his captors. All of which had turned to look at him. The leader of his captors, a man he had surmised was named Victor, based on listening in on their conversations, says something to the residents and then drops Matou off in the corner. Matou cautiously watches everyone. Everyone seems just as cautious of him however.

Finally, someone in blue robes with a staff walks over. Another zombie of course. Matou had begun to believe he had come to live in an entirely undead world. The zombie waves the staff and casts some spell and then speaks to Matou. "I am Thom." He says.

"Oh? Someone I can understand. I presume with a spell, considering that you just used a spell it seems." Matou replies.

Thom nods. "And who are you?" He asks.

"My name is Matou Takeda." Matou responds plainly.

"Hmm… that doesn't sound Gilnean nor does it sound like a Stormwind name. Where are you from?" Thom asks. Matou cocks his head in curiosity at the names Gilnean and Stormwind.

"I'm Endarian. I'm from the Endarian Empire." Matou informs. Now it was Thom's turn to cock his head.

"There is no such place by that name." He says, not believing Matou.

"Yeah? Well I say there is no such place as Stormwind." Matou replies.

"How could you say that. It's the capital of the Alliance." Thom responds, bewildered now.

"Well, I am saying it." Matou says curtly.

"Well, regardless, what are you doing here?" Thom asks, somewhat annoyed by Matou's curt response.

"No fuckin clue. One moment I am in Pozye, in the Struyetsk region, cooking under the springtime sun, then there was this shimmer. Next thing I know, I'm taking a tumble down a hill and here I am in this giant pine forest." Matou explains. Thom nods, thinking.

"Sounds like you got teleported." Thom replies.

"Oh? No shit?" Matou says bitingly. Thom gives Matou another annoyed look.

"You're in Silverpine Forest. These are the lands of the Forsaken, that being us. I have no clue how you got here, if you are telling the truth, or what to do with you. I'll make sure you are sent to the Undercity. Someone there might know what to do." Thom says. Matou just nods. "The spell should allow you to speak and understand with no problem." He continues.

"Thanks. I'm certain it will help." Matou says, still rather rudely. Thom sighs and walks off. Matou lays back against the cold stone walls and closes his eyes. He might as well sleep, since it seemed these 'Forsaken' weren't going to harm him at the present time.

Matou is woken up by Victor. "Let's go. You're going to the Undercity. The Dark Lady will decide your fate, human." Victor says. Matou grimaces.

"I'm not a human." Matou spits the last word.

"You look human." Victor responds, pulling Matou to his feet.

"Maybe I look like one, but us Endarians live far longer than humans." Matou informs. Victor just nods, not really caring. He leads Matou out of the crypt. The other four were there already.

"Let's go." Victor says, giving Matou a push so he would start walking. Matou simple sighs in annoyance and follows as they get back on the path and continue north.

The next day, the great pine trees faded away and were replaced by numerous dead maple and oak trees. "Love the landscaping. Makes me feel so cheery." Matou says. Victor growls in annoyance.

The day after, the walls of what appeared to be an abandoned city came into view. "We'll be there in a few hours. You will treat Lady Sylvanas with respect." Victor says, warningly. Matou just nods, rolling his eyes. This 'Sylvanas Windrunner' was apparently the leader of the Forsaken. He could care less though. His field of work didn't exactly teach respect for nobility.

As they walked, Matou took notice of the occasional building. All were run down. The culture was as undead as its people, with abandoned houses refurbished into arguably liveable abodes. Occasionally, a cart would pass by, pulled by zombified horses. The riders were more undead Forsaken.

After a while, the group reaches the city and heads inside. Matou looks around but sees no one. "Real bustling place." He jabs.

"The city is underground." Victor explains, irately.

"Ah. I guess the sun isn't all that great for the skin?" Matou prods. Victor just grumbles in annoyance. Matou sighs as they head on into and down to the Undercity.


	3. The Snow-blind Tinker

**Location Unknown**

 **Date Unknown**

 **Hour: About Midday**

The cold snow bit at his face. "Grmh…" Matrellus mumbles something into the snow. Then, he sits up. He had been rather gracelessly thrown into a pile of snow. Shaking the snow off his body, Matrellus looks around. Making sure his weapon was still present, a pistol shaped piece of runed steel, Matrellus decides to begin looking for a place to get warm. The region appeared mountainous, as there seemed to be mountains in the distance on all sides of him. He shivers as he walks. He rolls down his sleeves, but the shirt was thin, and doing so didn't help too much.

He didn't know how long he was walking, as the cold and the snow made time and distance hard to calculate. However, eventually, he could go on no more. Falling to his knees, then on his face, Matrellus passed out. Soon, the cold would take him.


	4. The Ashen Prisoner

**Location Unknown**

 **Date Unknown**

 **Hour: Around Dawn**

The ground shook lightly, and Leonhard could smell ash as he lay on his back. Looking at the sky, it was a fiery red, with ash black cloud. The sound of fire roared nearby. Standing up and grabbing his sword, Leonhard looks around. The earth was black with ash. In the distance, a massive black volcano rose up, dominating the region.

"Wha… where?" Leonhard mumbles. He decided he missed the heat and humidity of Pozye. This was worse, what with the heat, the fires, and the fact that he had no clue where the hell he was. He looks around. In the distance, near what appeared to be a great big pit, Leonhard could see a number of wrought iron structures. Deciding he might find something there, Leonhard heads in that direction.

It takes an hour or so, but Leonhard is soon upon the structures. However, its residents were not all that happy to see him. They appeared to be dwarves, but with red eyes and ash colored skin. They draw their weapons to face Leonhard.

"Uhh… hi?" Leonhard says sheepishly. But, it is no use. The strange dwarves attack him. Leonhard takes a fighting stance and deflects the axe of the first one, kicking him aside, and slicing the throat of a second one as they raised their warhammer over their head. Pivoting on his foot, he swung his sword down on the recovering first assailant. As he turned to confront his third assailant, he failed to consider the stone golem nearby. The error was critical, and a rock thrown by the golem slammed Leonhard on the head. He fell, unconscious, to the ground.

When he came to, Leonhard was staring at a rock ceiling. He felt the prickle of straw beneath him. Sitting up, Leonhard realized both that his equipment was gone, and that he was in a prison cell. "Fuuuuck." Leonhard growns. Standing up, Leonhard looks around. The cell was empty except for the straw mattress and a bucket. "Oh, great. A shit bucket. Almost forgot those things existed." Leonhard curses. He sighs and lies back down. Staring at the ceiling, he counts the minutes. Then the hours. Soon, he dozes back off to sleep.

He was awoken by the opening of the bottom of his cell. A plate of unappetizing food was thrown in. However, Leonhard had an iron stomach and he eats regardless. He would need his strength the break out of here. After he eats, he decides to workout, doing push ups, sit ups, and whatever else he could do to pass the time in a productive manner. After he tired out, he lay back down and fell to sleep once more.

Once again, Leonhard was awoken. This time, his cell door was being opened. A number of the dwarves walked in with shackles. Leonhard is on his feet and scuffles with them. With a punch, he knocks one dwarf out. He trips and curbstomps another and gut punches a third. But the rest manage to tackle him to the floor and bind him. They then lead him out, into a cave like hallway. Leading him down the hall and upward, they soon come to a stone room. In there, he is handed a crude sword and shield.

"Y'know this stuff is shit, right?" Leonhard says, criticizing the weapon. The dwarves ignore him and lead him up to a portcullis. On the other side, Leonhard realized what was going on. It was a fighting pit. Onlookers watches as a corpse was dragged out of the arena. Leonhard sighed. He could fight at least, so it wasn't the worst outcome in the world. After the arena is cleaned of the blood and innards of the previous combatants, a speaker says something in a language Leonhard could not understand. Then, the portcullis opens, and Leonhard steps into the arena.


	5. The Nameless Progeny

**Location Unknown**

 **Date Unknown**

 **Hour: Afternoon**

"Bloody hell… where the… what the hell happened?" Graham mumbles as he sits up. His silver hair was disheveled and filled with leaves. His chest hurt and he was sure a rib or two was broke. He knew he had fallen from a tree, but the event had knocked him out, so he didn't know when. Looking around though, Graham was startled by the scenery. The trees were gorgeous. With purple leaves and ashen bark. The trees nearly blotted out the sun, giving everything a sleepy, twilight look. Owls hooted in the distance and wind rustled the leaves.

"Whoa…" Graham gasps, temporarily forgetting his pain. Standing up, Graham looks around, admiring everything. He didn't even seem to notice that he had begun walking, trying to see more of the gorgeous forest. That is, until he rather gracelessly tripped over a root, shouting in pain as he landed on his wounded side.

Deciding that adventure could wait, Graham tends to his injuries, bandaging his chest and cleaning any cuts or scrapes. Afterwards, Graham continues on. He had yet to find a path, but he wasn't too bothered. He felt secure as is, like the forest was peaceful and free of danger. When night fell, the light of the forest seemed to change little. It was like twilight was eternal here. Graham decides to bed down for the night. He eats a small ration of his travel food and then goes to sleep.

The next morning, Graham is on his feet and continues walking. He had no clue where he was going, as the trees obscured the sky and made charting a direction difficult. He could be walking in circles. However, Graham soon finds a road, and he decides to follow it. Walking along, Graham occasionally passes a lantern of odd sorts. It seemed to be made out of a plant, and the lantern gave off a blue glow. Graham inspects the lanterns curiously, but finally moves on. He whistles a tune as he walks.

After some time, when Graham figured it must be night, he lays down for the night once more, just off the road. He eats briefly before going to bed. However, he is awoken by movement. He sits up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He was looking up into the glowing white eyes of three armored women. From their ears, they were some sort of elf. "Huhh…" Graham kind of lets out a confused noise as he looks the women over. Their skin had a blued hue. "Who… what?" Graham asks, confused. The nearest elf woman asks Graham something, but he cannot understand the language. Graham looks at her. "I am afraid I don't understand, madam." He responds politely. The woman cocks her head. She seems to think for a moment, then gesture for Graham to follow them. Graham just nods, deciding he was at a disadvantage here. Besides, he was not one to turn down a lady. Even if she was a different race and nearly seven feet tall.

Standing up and gathering his stuff, Graham looks at the women, who had gotten back on the road. He gets on the road with them and they begin walking. He follows quietly. He tries to ask questions, here and there, but to no avail. It seemed the languages they spoke were nothing alike. Graham couldn't complain though. The ladies had shown no hostility thus far.

The trek took quite a few hours, but finally, a small village on an island on a lake came into view. Graham looks at it, enjoying the architecture, which seemed to integrate with the land. The women lead him across a bridge, onto the island and to the largest building. Two of the women stop outside, while the leader takes Graham into the building. He is told to halt, near an elven woman in a dress with green hair. The woman who led him hear then leaves and comes back with a blue haired, elven man who was over seven feet tall. Graham eyes the man, surprised by the height. The man nods to him and says something to Graham. Graham simply shrugs as he cannot understand. The man nods and casts some spell. "How about now, can you understand me?"

Graham is surprised. He nods. "Aye, sir. You are quite intelligible now." Graham responds. The man nods, satisfied. He gestures to a chair, for Graham to take a seat. Graham does so, and the man sits across from him.

"I am Faldreas Goeth'Shael. Who are you?" The man asks politely.

"Ah, my name is Graham sir. Of the Ashcroft family. Fourth in line, and sixth in blood." Graham replies. Faldreas nods.

"I am not familiar with that name. It sounds vaguely like a name from the Kingdom of Gilneas." Faldreas comments.

"Gilneas? What's that?" Graham inquires.

"You don't know? Well, that no doubt means you aren't from there, human." Faldreas says, surprised.

Graham shakes his head. "I'm neither from this Gilneas, nor am I human sir. I am an Endarian, and I hail from the Empire of Endaria. I know I look human, but my age would give me away. I'm a few millenia old you see."

"Well, you are more like a night elf in that way then!" Faldreas says, thoroughly surprised by Graham's age. "What is the Empire you speak of? I've never heard of it." Faldreas continues.

Graham raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean? You don't know of Endaria? We're only the largest and most powerful force on the continent of Atichland… But… well… you said night elf? I'm not familiar with that species. I do believe I came through a portal to get here. As this place is nothing like where I was when I was snatched by that shimmer on the road…" Graham says, running on as he thought out loud to himself.

"A portal you say? Well, then you may very well be different. You say it wasn't intentional either?" Faldreas asks. Graham merely shakes his head. Faldreas nods. "Well, that certainly is curious. Faldreas looks at the green haired elf. "Kimlya, will you get us some Darnassian wine?" Faldreas asks. The woman, presumably Kimlya, nods and goes to do so.

"Where am I, if I may ask?" Graham asks politely.

"You are in the town of Astranaar, in Ashenvale. We are on the continent of Kalimdor." Faldreas informs. Graham nods, processing the information. Kimlya comes back with two glasses of the wine. Graham takes a glass gratefully and sips from it. The taste is unique to him, but he could get used to it.

"I love the scenery, I'll confess. It is gorgeous here." Graham comments. Faldreas smiles softly, nodding.

"As is all night elven land. It is good that you like it though." Faldreas responds, drinking from his glass. "I will see what I can do about your predicament, as it sounds like you have found yourself in one. Until then, I recommend you rest here. Kimlya is kind, and she will make sure you have a place to stay for the night." Faldreas says, standing up. "The spell I cast will allow for you to communicate with those around here, so you should hopefully have no problems."

"Thank you, Messer Goeth'Shael." Graham thanks the elf politely. Faldreas nods and leaves. Graham then looks at Kimlya and nods in greeting. "So… hello."


	6. The Snowbound Path

**Location Unknown**

 **Date Unknown**

 **Hour: Mid-Sunset**

Matrellus's eyes fluttered open. He was staring at a stone ceiling as he was lying down on what felt like a mattress. A short mattress that his feet hung off of. Sitting up, Matrellus looked around. The entire room was made of stone. A fireplace sat in the corner. The archway into the room was short. Perhaps 6 feet. A black bearded dwarf walks in. He says something to Matrellus, but Matrellus doesn't understand. Matrellus thinks, and recalls a translation spell he had learned so he could engage in trade deals in Canda. He quickly casts the spell with what energy he had.

"Sorry… could you repeat that?" Matrellus asks softly.

"Ah, I was jes sayin, yer finally awake." The dwarf says. "Yer lucky I found ye while I was out huntin. What were you doin, out in the snow in that kinda clothin?" He asks.

"Well, it wasn't voluntary. I was… well… I can only presume I was teleported. The place I came from was far warmer." Matrellus informs. The dwarf nods.

"And where might ye be from, laddie?" The dwarf asks.

"I'm from the Endarian Empire…" Matrellus says quietly.

"Endari… I don't believe I have heard of that place." The dwarf responds. Matrellus nods.

"Odd… simply teleporting was odd enough, but it seems more than that happened…" Matrellus mumbles to himself.

"Would ye like fer some ale, laddie?" The dwarf asks. Matrellus nods, and the dwarf leaves.

Soon, the dwarf comes back with a mug of ale and hands it to Matrellus, who takes it. "Thanks." Matrellus nods his head in gratitude. He sips the ale. He then looks at the dwarf. "Where am I?" Matrellus asks.

"Yer in Dun Morogh, within the domain of Ironforge." The dwarf replies informatively. Matrellus just nods, processing the information. He sips his ale and closes his eyes, thinking.

"I honestly don't know what to do from here." Matrellus says after a moment. "I am unfamiliar with this land."

"Well, yer best bet is to go to Ironforge. It is linked to Stormwind and ye might find what ye be lookin fer in one of those cities." The dwarf says.

Matrellus nods. "How do I get there?"

"I can get ye a map. Oh, and a cloak to keep ye warm." The dwarf replies.

Matrellus sips his ale and nods. "Thank you. That would be great."

"I'll make sure to take care of it for ye. But, for now, ye need yer rest. Ye nearly died after all." The dwarf says. Matrellus just nods and sips his ale.

After he drains the mug of its contents, Matrellus lies back down. The dwarf had left the room.

When he woke up, Matrellus could smell meat cooking. He gets out of bed and follows the smell. In the kitchen, a female dwarf is at work. She looks up at Matrellus. "Ah, hello there. So yer the man my husband dragged in. I'm working on dinner right now. What is yer name?" She asks.

"Matrellus… Matrellus Barenzian." Matrellus says, simply. The dwarf woman nods.

"Well, I am Mira, and my husband is Thordren." She says, introducing herself. Matrellus nods in greeting. Matrellus sits down in a chair and sighs. He was a quiet type and decided to take the time to think on his predicament.

When dinner was served, Matrellus ate quietly unless he was asked a question. Afterwards, he asked Thordren questions about the land he was in. Soon after, Matrellus went to bed.

The next day, Matrellus got up early. Thordren was there. He hands Matrellus a map, a cloak, and food for the journey. "Be careful laddie." Thordren says, before opening the door for Matrellus.

"Thank you again, sir. I hope to find answers." Matrellus says, and then he steps out into the snow.


	7. The Gladiator under the Mountain

**Blackrock Mountain**

 **Date Unknown**

 **Hour: Unknown**

Leonhard cuts down his opponent with ease and the crowd claps. He had just survived his third match. Leonhard shakes the sweat from his brow and looks around. The announcer says something to the crowd, the Leonhard is led out of the arena. He is led to a waiting area, where other duelists lounge, talking and resting and practicing. Leonhard could, of course, not understand them, so he simple practices and worksout while he waits for whatever comes next, whether that be another match, or him returning to his cell.

After a couple hours pass, two guards come to get Leonhard, and they lead him up to the arena once more. He steps into the pit, and a human fighter is led out. This was the first fight Leonhard had against a humanoid combatant. The previous had been beasts. Readying himself for a fight, Leonhard watches the man, gauging him. His opponent was better armored, wearing full plate. Leonhard sighed. He looks at the announcer as the announcer speaks to the crowd. Finally, the bell rings for the battle to begin.

His opponent circles Leonhard, looking for an opening. Leonhard of course, exposed nothing. He watches his opponent, daring him to attack. The moment seems to draw on for an eternity, although in reality. It was less than half a minute. The man charges Leonhard, readying his axe. Leonhard side steps as he tosses his sword, catching it by the blade and slamming the crossguard like a warhammer into the opponent's side. Leonhard's opponent shouts in pain, likely having broken a few ribs. Leonhard kicks the man away. The man stumbles, then turns to face Leonhard once more. The man attacks once more. As he moves, Leonhard drops his sword down so he is gripping the base of the blade. As the man raises his axe to attack, Leonhard steps in, stomping the man's heel. The stomp forces the man to lurch forward and Leonhard drives the pommel of his sword up into the man's helmet. His foot pinned, the man falls flat on his ass, crying out in pain from the blow that left his helmet dented and his nose broken. Blood leaked out the helmet as the man looks at Leonhard, who now had his sword at the man's neck. Leonhard looks at the crowd, which is cheering now. The announcer says something. After which, the crowd begins giving thumbs down as they cheer. Finally, the announcer does the same. Leonhard looks at the man.

"Sorry mate." Leonhard says apologetically, before cutting the man's life short. The crowd cheers once more. Deciding to play with the crowd a bit, Leonhard bows. The announcer says something, and then Leonhard is once again led out of the arena. His weapon is taken from him and then Leonhard is led to his cell. Leonhard simply plops down on his pile of straw and stares at the ceiling until sleep takes him as he wonders how long he had been here, and how long he will be here.


	8. The Agent's Game

**Location: Undercity, Tirisfal Glades**

 **Date: Unknown**

 **Hour: Late Afternoon**

The smell of decay, dust, and death became more apparent as Victor and his men led Matou deeper down the halls into the Undercity. Matou frowns at the smell, but says nothing. The halls eventually open up to a large and morbid underground city. Matou looks around at everything, observing the ghastly motifs that permeated the place.

"Five stars for interior design…" Matou mutters sarcastically. He continues following Victor and his men as they meander their way through the city. What must have been water troughs in the days of the Undercity being a sewer were now filled with a greenish ichor. Matou simply frowns at the stuff. He was typically apathetic, but even he was disappointed with the nastiness of this city.

Eventually, the group turns and begins heading down a new tunnel. Matou just quietly observed everything as he was led on. Finally, the tunnel opens up on an antechamber. In the center was a pale haired elven woman with red eyes. Matou analyzes the room before fixing his eyes on her. Victor leads Matou before her.

"We found this one in Silverpine Forest, my lady. He is not of the Alliance, and speaks a language none of us know. We bring him before you. He also says he is not human." Victor says as he stands aside for the woman to get a good look at Matou. The woman gives Matou a cold, suspecting stare.

"Who are you, and what are you doing within my lands?" The woman asks, curtly. Matou simply shrugs.

"My name is Matou Takeda. What I am doing here is something I have no bloody clue about. Here I am, on a mission, walking through fields of amber grain, and… boom. Suddenly I am in some bigass pine forest." Matou explains plainly, showing little respect for authority.

"Watch yourself around the Dark Lady!" Victor scolds Matou. Matou simply rolls his eyes.

"If you aren't Alliance, and you aren't human, what are you?" The woman as interrogatively, gripping her dark longbow threateningly.

"I am racially and demographically Endarian. I am from the Endarian Empire." Matou explains. "If you wonder what sets us apart from humans, well, aside from being more civilized and less barbaric, we live significantly longer. Most would consider us effectively immortal." Matou continues. The woman watches him, not entirely convinced it seems.

"What are your intentions here?" The woman inquires. Matou shrugs again.

"Don't really got any right now. I guess one would be not to imitate Victor here and die. I quite like having warm blood." Matou says dryly. With him, it was hard to tell if he was joking or throwing an insult. Victor glares at Matou.

"Should we kill him, my lady?" Victor asks the woman. She looks at Matou, analyzing.

"I'd prefer to stay alive, if I may confess. Perhaps a deal can be arranged?" Matou says calmly.

"And what would that be, Takeda?" The woman asks coldly. Matou looks her in the eyes, his icy stare matching her cold voice.

"Since I'm in a predicament that essentially has me… unemployed… I can offer you my services. I'm certain you would find them most useful." Matou says in a confident but pointed manner.

"And what are your services?" The woman inquires.

"I'm an agent I guess you could say. So… assassination, theft, torture, kidnapping, framing, forgery, deceit, and basically every kind of skullduggery one would have need of." Matou explains, now taking on a business-like air.

"I already have people who can do that. Dark Rangers, assassins, I have no need of such services." The woman explains, dismissively.

"Sure sure, you probably do. But, I am confident that I could make a decent asset, besides, based on how this city is designed, I feel you don't understand assassins too well." Matou says sharply. The woman scowls at his insult.

"You insult the person who controls your fate. It seems you are the fool here." The woman says irately.

"You have an underground city, the smell of the city is strong in native scents, those being death and rot. The city is dimly lit and made of winding tunnels and alleyways with little in the way of open spaces. Everything about this city is a poster child example of tactical ineptitude. The small spaces, alleys and tunnels make it exceptionally easy for assassins and criminals to hide. With the smell of death and rot, a corpse could be hidden and never be discovered, making it hard for investigators to find evidence. So already, a capable assassin could sneak in here, kill you, and hide your body, and be gone and if they ever even found your body to investigate, the killer would be long gone. But, not only that, but martially, this town is bad as well. Sure, the layout is excellent for ambushing invaders, but if someone attacked, it would take forever to mobilize as the winding tunnels and small spaces make it hard to move troops in any large amount, meaning if a sizeable invasion force came around, by the time you have mobilized, half your city is already captured." Matou explains sharply. He nods his head to the woman, waiting for an answer. She stares at him, gripping her bow and half reaching for an arrow. Matou watches her, plainly, waiting. Finally, she sighs and relaxes.

"You are a sly and arrogant bastard, Takeda." The woman says begrudgingly. "Fine, I'll let you live. But, one slip up and you will not survive." She continues, warningly. "I am Sylvanas Windrunner. You answer to me from now on."

"Pleasure doing business with you, my lady." Matou says, bowing. Victor looks at Matou, scowling and annoyed by the turn of events. "If I may have my weapon back. Sanguis is the only sword I use." Matou says, holding his hand out to Victor. Victor looks at Sylvanas.

"Give him his sword." She says, concedingly. Victor bows and hands Matou his sword. Matou proceeds to hand it on his belt and nods in gratitude. Matou then looks at Sylvanas.

"What now, Lady Windrunner?" Matou asks. Sylvanas looks him over.

"I want to see what you can do. If you are actually capable, like you profess." She says. She looks at Victor and his men. "You five can go. Takeda, you stay here." Victor and his men bow, leaving. Matou watches her, waiting. Sylvanas looks at one of her guards. "Arm five prisoners and bring them here. Tell them that I won't use the blight on them if they manage to defeat someone." She commands. The guard nods and heads off. Sylvanas looks at Matou. "If you can defeat these five. Then perhaps you have some value to me." Sylvanas explains plainly. Matou simply nods his head softly.

"No problem, Dark Lady."


End file.
